Multiverse 2

by Chris Hechtl

  “Do the crime, do the time?” a guy asked.

  “Exacta-fucking-mundo!” an Italian guy with a nice suit said. “They ain't ever pinched me, though they've tried. Nothing stuck. Fuck, I wish I had a piece right now. Is that too much to ask for? Die with dignity?”

  A woman sniffed, glaring at him. He turned her look with a basilisk look of his own. She looked away, suddenly more interested in anything else but him. She slowly sidled away from him.

  “Fuck yeah. But they don't give a shit. So, we're screwed,” the big black dude said, rubbing a bicep. “I'd love to get my hands on one of them …,” he growled, flexing his massive hands in a grasping motion.

  “I bet you are wishing you'd ….”

  “Can I have your attention?” the woman from the government said patiently. They turned to see her on some sort of stage near the entrance to the dome. “We do not have a lot of time here folks, please,” she said imploringly. The crowd slowly shushed to listen to her.

  Raymond could feel the sizzle of hope in the group. It went right up there with the growing fear of death. He was pretty sure the fear would win out in the end.

  “You have all been gathered here as representatives of our race. You …,” she grimaced then set her shoulders. “You have been selected as defendants in our ‘trials.’” She grimaced again then adjusted her horn rim glasses. She looked down to the prepared speech she was reading from.

  “As you know the aliens came six months ago or at least let us know they were here. They have agreed to put mankind on trial, such as these, instead of rendering summary judgment and exterminating our race for the crimes we have performed against other species and the environment of our beloved planet.”

  “I'm sorry to say that the odds are not stacked in your favor. But your … sacrifice will not be in vain. You will give mankind time as well as an example. Make us proud. Please. Do not fall into … just do your best,” she finished lamely. She looked down at the podium. Even from where Raymond was standing he could see her hands trembling slightly.

  “Can we get this over with?” the old man said loudly, playing with the Yakama on his head. He was balding, grumpy, and a bit peevish.

  “The longer we wait, the longer we live. Let her talk,” a girl said, hushing him. A few people shot the old man a dirty look.

  “At this rate I'm gonna die of old age and start to decompose, which was what I had planned to do in the first place,” the old Jewish man said peevishly. He looked at his clothes and shook his head. “Look at me, I look like a kvetch. I look like a schlemiel,” he said peevishly as he tugged on his thread barren jacket. “You hear that my lyb'? I may look like a schlock, but I'm coming anyway!” he said to the heavens.

  Raymond fought a smile. He couldn't help it. The guy was a yutz. Even in the face of death, someone had to crack wise, crack a joke. He felt better for it.

  “I swear, can we get on with this? I'm gonna have to pee again!” the old man complained. Raymond couldn't help it; he snorted. He caught the old man's gleam as he settled himself. He caught the diplomat woman stepping away from the podium, impatient to get her job finished. He turned back to her as a few naysayers started to shout and protest. Soldiers and grim faced police officers stepped up to protect the woman.

  “We didn't do this. What trial? What'd we do?” Dom demanded angrily. “I want my lawyer!” he bellowed. A few people echoed that sentiment. “This is the USA, not some third world shithole! Where is the constitution when you need it?”

  “Folks, folks, if you'll let me finish,” the woman said, putting her hands out and making a pressing-down motion. People stopped complaining to listen. She inhaled, exhaled then seemed to shrug. “We regret that you are about to die but perhaps you will die saving the race. Don't dishonor us,” the woman said, sounding pious. “Please go with God. Remember he too is watching.” She turned and quickly made to exit the stage. “That's it?” Dom demanded, eyes wide. “You … you leave us …,” he sputtered, eyes bulging in sudden rage. “Come 'ere, bitch! I'll ….” That ending statement earned an angry hiss from the group as they started to turn into an angry mob. Alien robots and human soldiers moved in and herded them through the entrance into the trial area, a dome encircling a bunch of old run-down buildings. Once the last person was inside, the dome sealed itself behind them.

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  These humans from this location and polity are like the others. No difference in reaction. Denial. Shock. More denial until the prosecutors are introduced. Then it is fear, prostration, running, fighting, terror, and death.”

  “The prosecutors have been selected for hostility and programmed through their biology for nothing less.”

  “Truth.”

  “Yet, we do not program them for compassion? To allow them to think rationally? It is biased, is it not?” the lead scientist mused.

  “It is the way we do things. It is the law. They are lower life forms. Once they have served their purpose, they will either be allowed to remain as they are or be destroyed.”

  “As is also the law. Have you ever had to come back to judge such beings, Commander?” one of the young scientists asked.

  “Several times,” the commander replied, sounding tired. “They too fail to learn the proper lessons.”

  “Are the defendants arrayed?”

  “They have been collected. They will be arraigned shortly. Their government insisted on sending a representative to explain the situation to them, from their point of view.”

  “Their sacrifice is for the greater good?” the young scientist asked. “Typical. Disappointing.”

  “Not to defend them?” another scientist asked hopefully.

  “No.” The scientists looked crestfallen. The commander had to remind herself that the scientists were hoping for a different outcome to the experiment. Such was their way; they wanted to see a different result even though the trials had been going on with the same results for eons. You would have thought they would have changed the procedure by now, just given up on the trials and gone with a more efficient cleansing method. But such was not the way of their people. The defendants had to be given a chance to prove themselves.

  “Commander?”

  She waved a lower hand in a dismissive gesture. “As expected. Then let us proceed but watch as usual as is required by law.”

  “As you command.”

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  Raymond Otter and the others in his group were Americans, and all were confused about being chosen for what was about to happen. They'd all heard about the aliens; it was on all the news. Raymond shook his head. He'd expected to go to work stocking shelves, not be selected to be some fighter in some damned alien blood sport.

  “Why doesn't the government do something? We're paying citizens!” a woman hissed. Another just cried, shaking her head. She seemed inconsolable.

  “We can't. They can't. The aliens are too powerful. If we resist they will nuke our cities,” a guy murmured.

  Raymond worked his jaw. So that was it, blood sport or watch a city die. A hell of a choice. They were grouped with several hundred other people on the outskirts of an old four-story brick and concrete building. Robots and human soldiers were around them, forming a perimeter none of the civilians could escape from.

  Apparently from what Raymond had heard, mankind was getting prosecuted for the crimes they had done against other animals on their world as well as all the environmental damage. He didn't see why he had to be the one to pay for it though! He was just a blue collar guy keeping his head down trying to pay for his way through college! Damn it, he started to curse than gave it up as a wasted effort. It was better to focus on figuring out some way to survive.

  “Here they come,” a guy said, nodding his chin to the aliens floating nearby. The aliens moved in, hovering on gold disks above them like some sort of god.

  “You are representatives of your species for this continent. You have been selected for your species crimes against other admittedly lo
wer species on this planet. You will be placed within this trial chamber,” the alien waved a long three-fingered hand to indicate the shimmering dome, “where you will be prosecuted,” she stated, bringing her hands back together as if it was some sort of piety. “Should you fail you shall pay the penance for your species crimes against this species, then another group will be selected to do the same until a settlement or fulfillment of your species penance has been reached. Since your species has committed so many crimes, I believe your population will not sustain such prosecutions for long. I have been through many judgments. Not many species complete the penance and are successfully cleansed of their crimes. To date, none have survived the process.”

  A woman hunched her shoulders practically wailing. Raymond and others looked at her. She covered her mouth practically biting her own hand to keep herself quiet. She was shivering though. A guy rubbed her shoulders trying to console her. A sound from above returned their attention to who really mattered at the moment.

  A second set of hands came out of the commander's robe, these thinner and less developed then the upper arms. She pointed to the “prosecutors.” “The prosecution is nearly ready. They have been cloned from representative gene stock, their intelligence enhanced to your level, and their bodies flash-grown to full adult size. They have witnessed your crimes through our programming so do not expect mercy,” she said, bringing her hands together.

  “Talk about stacking the deck in their favor,” a linebacker dude said from behind Raymond.

  “Why not? We've had it our way a long time with our guns and stuff—apparently too long. This is their way of evening the playing field,” Raymond murmured.

  “Fuck,” the guy muttered.

  Raymond just shook his head, his eyes still locked on the aliens. He'd felt wonder and awe when he'd first seen them. Now he just felt anger and bewilderment. Mixed in there was a bit of hate. The lead female's large eyes swiveled to him briefly then back above them. Her tiny small eyes blinked. After a moment her larger eyes blinked as well.

  “The trial will last from local sunset to sunrise,” she said, indicating the setting sun. “Should you survive the night, you shall be acquitted.”

  There was a murmur from the humans at that news. A spark of hope, Raymond thought. They had to give it to them to make it worth it. To dangle that to make people think they could win. No, he was pretty sure the odds were firmly stacked against them. They just wanted it to be interesting.

  “You have one hour to prepare to meet your primitive concepts of your makers. Use that time wisely,” the commander said and then withdrew.

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  “Let us see what they do. I believe they will fall apart,” the commander said, already disinterested in the outcome. “Is the next arena prepared?”

  “The next selection is. The next arena is in the process of being prepared.”

  “What is the holdup?”

  “The locals in the area refuse to give up the land.”

  “Then they can be a part of the judgment. This species is full of fools. Stupid fools.”

  “We shall see, Commander,” the subcommander replied, shifting her upper arms. “But I believe you are rushing to judgment hastily.”

  “I have been through many of these judgments. I have spent nearly an eon cleansing this arm of the galaxy. Do not lecture me on patience, little one. You still have a lot to learn about the subject.”

  “Then teach me,” the subcommander stated.

  “I shall. I shall indeed.”

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  “It isn't over,” Raymond insisted when the group fell to wailing and arguing over what to do. It was turning into an everyman for himself scenario. “She, it said sunset to sunrise. We can do this if we keep our heads. Stop screwing around and start thinking,” Raymond said, voice growing as he turned to the group. “We have to think of something. Keep our heads and fight smart. Work together. We can do this.”

  A few of the people near him immediately nodded.

  “Sure, give them a sporting chance at taking their time tearing us apart,” a cynical woman sniffed.

  “No, no, he's right,” another guy said, coming out of the crowd. “I'd rather go down fighting than whimpering.” The old Jewish guy came out of the crowd and grimly nodded too.

  The guy in the Italian suit pretended to tip his hat to Raymond. “Let's do it. Do something. I ain't going down like some mook.”

  Instead of praying or prostrating themselves and declaring their innocence to an uncaring and indifferent audience, Raymond got people into thinking about survival. Some helped but too many chatted, talked, or fooled around, certain it was over or some sort of game or trick. Some even resorted to stealing; one big guy intimidated a smaller guy into giving up his watch.

  “I'd say, by the look of the setting sun and my handy phone here,” a girl checked her phone then scowled, “we've got less than forty minutes left before sundown.”

  “Then we'd better use it wisely.”

  They explored the area. People fanned out; some trying to find places to hide, others giving up and waiting for the seemingly inevitable trampling. One guy sat in a white plastic lawn chair, put his feet up on a cinder block, and decided to take a nap. A few people whimpered, looking about frantically as they realized it was serious. Those that had been screwing around finally started to come to the realization that they had to do something to survive. One couple took themselves off to a private nook.

  “Sheep. That's what they are. Screw the lot.”

  “We can survive if we work together. But we have to find a defensible position,” Raymond said softly.

  “Got one in mind?” the Italian asked. Raymond frowned again. Apparently he'd picked up a sidekick and hadn't known it.

  “We'll never survive on the ground. Out in the open we'll be trampled in a stampede. We've got to ….” Raymond frowned, rubbing his chin as he thought furiously. He turned in place, trying to figure out all the angles. Then he saw the obvious, the building itself. “Up. We go up,” he said and then pointed.

  “We'll be trapped,” the Italian protested. “Like rats.”

  “You got a better idea?” Raymond demanded, turning to round on him.

  The Italian looked around, shrugged then waved to the building. “Come on, people! You heard the guy! This way. The center of the maze it is.”

  There was a couple of walls between them and the building. They had to move quickly to get there. They got through the chain link fence easily enough, someone had cut a hole in it beforehand so they just parted it like a curtain. The cement wall was something else however. It stood a good twelve feet high, an imposing sight even though it was covered in graffiti.

  “Now what?” a woman demanded. “We can't climb a sheer cliff!”

  Raymond looked around frowning. “The crap around here. Look for a gate, but the rest of you use the stuff here to form a ladder,” Raymond urged, picking up what was left of a chair. He tossed it next to the wall and then found more stuff to throw nearby to climb on.

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  “A leader has emerged, an unexpected development. His psychological profile no longer fits the reality.”

  “Humans are flexible. This one will fail given enough time.”

  “I am not so certain you are correct, Commander. I believe this one will surprise you.”

  “In the end selfish desire to survive will come to the fore, given the right stimulus.”

  “That has not been what we have observed. This group ….”

  “The prosecutors are properly stimulated?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let us begin.”

  “As you command, so shall it be done.”

  ---<(+)>~~<(+)>---

  The elephants were outside the trial area, milling about in a group away from the humans. Robots kept them away from the humans and vice versa. One of the aliens acted as an intermediary, carrying the statement of the crimes of humanity. They could hear
the indictment going on. Raymond turned with the others to see holograms of atrocities people had done against the elephants over the years. He shook his head. The aliens were getting the pachyderms good and riled up while condemning the humans inside the trial area. He noted a few of the elephants were coldly watching them.

  Some of the skeptical and cynical people in the group said it was all a hoax, some sort of government conspiracy. But when they heard the elephants trumpet fifteen minutes to zero hour, panic ensued. People used improvised ropes and furniture they found discarded in the field to climb the wall. A couple big guys flipped a couch on its end to use as part of a stair. One by one a small group used that until it was knocked over. When it fell the people left behind wailed.

  Raymond straddled the wall with a few other people and helped them over the wall. Some people wanted to abandon those who hadn't tried to help themselves, but Raymond insisted everyone go. The elderly and handicapped among the group were helped up and over the wall by their family members or neighbors. They were grateful for the aide, though a few protested and kept insisting they be left behind. When those left behind just fell to their knees, he dropped over to them and forced them to their feet, then helped them up with a hand, knee, and back. He ached, but everyone was over the wall by the time he climbed over himself again.

  Once they were inside the perimeter, they raced to the building. A couple of the more infirm clutched at their chests. Raymond worried about one of them having a stroke or heart attack. That was all they'd need. He wouldn't like to have to abandon someone in the haste to get out of the area, but he would if he had to. He set his jaw and did his best to put such thoughts out of his mind for the moment.

  Dom found a way in with a couple of big guys who must have played as linebackers at some time in their past. They got inside and then waved the others in to follow. A steady stream of people headed for the door. They picked up the pace when the elephants trumpeted again.